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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954146">baby soap and body warmth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoke_rings_and_paper_dolls/pseuds/smoke_rings_and_paper_dolls'>smoke_rings_and_paper_dolls</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Day6 (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>DoPil, Jaehyungparkian, M/M, Naptime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:54:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,988</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26954146</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoke_rings_and_paper_dolls/pseuds/smoke_rings_and_paper_dolls</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>just some wholesome sleepy dopil getting ready for bed.<br/>take your time with this fic; it wasn’t meant to be cemented into surety or coherence, merely strung together with emotion, primarily laziness and drunken exhaustion, just letting words flow. rest yourself weary reader, you should have time to spare…</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Younghyun | Young K/Park Jaehyung | Jae, Kim Wonpil/Yoon Dowoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. -i like the smell of your soap// -its baby soap// -i figured</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>fair warning, this thing has been extensively pored over, but i don't quite trust myself, so there might be a few errors.<br/>please feel free to point out any you may find !!<br/>also yes, this was inspired by me finding out that dowoon doesn't use any perfume/scents other than baby lotion and baby soap so yeah. fucking cry with me about it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>when wonpil stepped into the dorms it was already dark, the sun hanging low over the orange-purple city line. it hadn’t been the most tiring day; just tiring enough for him to head straight for bed, waving off an expectant younghyun who was waiting at the table with dinner.</p><p>the lights were off when he walked into the room; he left them that way, whistling a little piece of Bach to himself in the subtle brightness of the city beneath.</p><p>with a soft groan, wonpil peeled the shirt off the back of his neck, taking a moment to breathe in between the surprisingly strenuous task of taking of his clothes. maybe he should have skipped off chest and shoulders at the gym that day…</p><p>he allowed the fabric to pool at the foot of the bed, gently rotating his arm about his shoulder in an attempt to wear out the kinks in the muscle. he winced slowly at the familiar soreness in his muscles, that came from both physical, as well as emotional exertion.</p><p>the door creaked open, causing him to tense slightly, and then relax with a sigh when he realized it was only dowoon. </p><p>“younghyun hyung said you didn’t want anything to eat?” and wonpil almost caught an edge of amusement to his voice, like he’d been coerced into this- which he probably had. </p><p>wonpil had to admire how good younghyun was at this; it hadn’t even been ten minutes since he’d left the kitchen. and he noticed, with a resolute smile, that dowoon was carrying a glass of cold water, as well a glowing blush behind his ears. </p><p>“yeah, i’m not very hungry right now” he admitted, shaking his head defeatedly. he gestured to the glass- “did he… give you that as well?” </p><p>dowoon chuckled, pushing the glass towards wonpil wordlessly. it wasn’t a no. wonpil balefully took the glass from his cold hands, sending him a grateful smile that was probably lost in the dim shadows of the room. </p><p>there was a moment of comfortable silence during which wonpil took a sip of his water, then set the glass at the side table to gather condensation. a single drop followed his finger, <em>it’ll stain the wood</em>, he thought sadly, but not quite, in the half-hearted way that thoughts came to him when he was too exhausted to think them properly.</p><p>“he just worries. you know that” </p><p>the words echoed slightly, settling comfortably over the air in the room. the shadows on the wall whispered them back to him in eagerness. </p><p>wonpil didn’t say anything in response; he took a single step forward instead, choosing to bury his nose in the crook of dowoon’s neck, flattening his palms on the man’s chest right above where his heartbeat was thudding comfortably. </p><p>he exhaled softly through his nose, closing his eyes to the dim lighting and the probable expression of not-meant-to-be-but-was-in-fact condescending amusement that dowoon was sporting. </p><p>“I know that” he whispered, not quite enunciating the words like he did. the day had taken more out of him than he’d expected… </p><p>he inhaled slowly, deeply, expecting to be hit by the comforting smell of Dowoon After A Day Of Work- a vague blend of his everyday lotion, the faint saltiness of clean sweat and the bitter dusty smell of Outside; it smelled like his day-old sweatshirts and the air around the food stalls from where he bought his favorite lunch of beef brisket and rice every afternoon- and then wonpil was hit by the acrid scent of dirty hour-old sweat and body odor, causing him to jerk back and wrinkle his nose in disgust. </p><p>he met dowoon’s playful knowing eyes with a sigh. </p><p>“you were at the gym right now, weren’t you-”?</p><p>dowoon’s laughter bounced off his chest, leaving a little dent deep in wonpil’s soul, just like it always did. deep and throaty, pitched with playful joy and resonating within him like a struck bell, dowoon’s laughter had chords and rhythms of its own, like a little tuneless music box that streamed unfettered out of his chest, a product of pure amusement- </p><p>“<em>stop it</em>” wonpil snapped, the asperity that was intended to reprimand dowoon barely even reaching him, let alone phasing him. </p><p>“stop what, hyung?” he answered, the hint of a smile playing at the underlying tones of his voice. </p><p>where his hands were placed, wonpil could feel the muscles under his touch tense up and swivel, as dowoon raised his arms. the same hands, littered with rough patches and calluses and the unnatural smoothness of bandages, rising to rest on the back of his neck, the soft pads of his fingers pressing into the skin. </p><p>his touch was so familiar that wonpil had to close his eyes for a second. <em>like the ground beneath my feet</em>, he thought faintly. </p><p>he exhaled lightly through his nose, again. </p><p>“stop distracting me” he murmured lowly, barely keeping the amusement out of his voice.</p><p>and yes, he was amused by the effect that dowoon had on him; or maybe he wasn’t so much amused as he was amazed, but it was easier to laugh than to cry. </p><p>“oh i’m <em>distracting</em> you?” came the gleeful quip, and wonpil couldn’t help but smile at the predictability of his childishness, like a button being pushed to garner a reaction, <em>throw ball catch fetch</em>-</p><p>dowoon was always so simple with his emotions. </p><p>it was like magic for wonpil to watch. </p><p>instead he firmed his palms and pushed backwards gently, drawing a soft <em>ouf</em> from within dowoon’s chest. </p><p>“<em>go</em>-” and he couldn’t help but laugh at the puppy-caught-in-mischief look that the younger flashed him, “- and take a bath, you stinky idiot” </p><p>this earned a defeated sort of laughter from dowoon, the younger raising both palms in defeat, letting his hearty chuckles echo as he stepped out the threshold of the shared room. once outside, he waved his towel gently, a mock truce flag that urged wonpil into a soft smile, and brought the door shut in a sense of finality. </p><p>wonpil caught himself smiling in a daze long after the door was closed, a swift panic in the way his gaze dropped. </p><p>but there was no need to hurry either. </p><p>not now there wasn’t. </p><p>so he took his time, lazily dragging the stiff fabric of his pants away from his limbs, standing almost naked for a few seconds before pulling out a worn-out shirt that hugged his shoulders and fell loose around his waist. this, he discarded onto the floor of his wardrobe; the cloth felt too heavy against his skin. instead he opted for a pair of shorts that were ragged with wear and soft against his skin. </p><p>he breathed in the still air, a moment of immotile silence. </p><p>the door drew his gaze, and he couldn’t help but imagine the same lean body pushing against the frame, more strength than one would expect to be contained in those stringy muscles, maybe a large veiny callused hand pressed against the white wood, maybe a flush in his rounded cheeks, a smile tugging at the soft habitually-chewed lips, </p><p>maybe just him. </p><p>wonpil couldn’t help his thoughts from wandering to him. </p><p>instead it was a pair of heavy-set eyes and a significantly broader frame, a slanting smile and no blush. </p><p>wonpil jumped at the intrusion. </p><p>“me, it’s just me,” younghyun reassured, holding up a hand with a soft smile. </p><p>“you’re going to sleep now?” he asked, and maybe wonpil hadn’t been as good as he had hoped at hiding his admittedly evident disappointment, because he also added- “dowoon-a is almost done with his bath too. he told me to ask you to make space” </p><p>wonpil smiled unconsciously, gaze landing on the mattresses they’d piled with each other’s blankets several months ago, that they had never bothered putting back since. 
he always made space. </p><p>“it worked, didn’t it?” younghyun asked, and the smile that graced his lips was almost forlorn. maybe wonpil and dowoon wouldn’t be the only ones sharing beds in the dorms that night…</p><p>“what worked?” wonpil asked, his first words in a while. </p><p>“dowoon,” came the prompt reply, and he had no answer to it. </p><p>yes, <em>always</em>. for sore limbs, for short tempers, for irrational tears and for lost appetites. for loneliness and laughter, younghyun knew just as well as wonpil did. </p><p>“dowoon always works with you” younghyun laughed, like it was their little secret, and- “sleep well pil-a, don’t have too many bad dreams” -and he closed the door behind his shoulder before wonpil was allowed another word. </p><p>he sighed; younghyun was <em>such</em> a fucking romantic sometimes. </p><p>lazy feet dragged him to the half-made bed, slipping up the glass of water that he allowed to meet his lips as he fell onto the gentle mattress. he used the back of his hand to wipe away the ring of condensation, setting the glass back down when he was finished. </p><p>twisting limbs, he busied himself with rolling into the most comfortable position he could find, and when he finally stilled, the exhale that left his lips was one of utmost relaxation. </p><p>he closed his eyes, the door eased open. </p><p>light streaked against the wall, but he wasn’t bothered by it. it was dowoon. </p><p>just dowoon. </p><p>the lights flickered off; door sliding shut against the polished floor. padded footsteps; the faint smell of wetness, musk and lotion flooded the room. wonpil inhaled deeply; it was like swimming in liquid comfort. </p><p>the blanket rose, chilly air hitting his exposed skin, before a slender and fitted body tucked itself under the covers, letting the sheets fall once again. </p><p>he inhaled again, completely in love with the way dowoon smelled. </p><p>he loved it, the way his skin smelled so clear. it was the absence of the cologne, no definitive odor clung to his skin other than his own musk, and the pastel scent of his soap that ran deep into the soft milky skin. and then there was the faint, chalky dusting of his powder, and the overpoweringly gentle smell of his shampoo, all rolled together into one- yoon dowoon, yoon dowoon, yoon dowoon. </p><p>like blankets and sunsets, like naptime and comfort, like linen sheets and a thousand other things  that meant comfort. if the scent of Yoon Dowoon could be bottled up and sold as perfume, wonpil would have taken every last drop. </p><p>how serene it made his heart feel, how sweet it was, how light, and when he reached out a hand and pressed four warm fingers into the skin of dowoon’s back ( they preferred sleeping shirtless ), the shudder than ran through the taught muscles sent a shock of pleasant joy down wonpil’s own back. </p><p>the man turned over his side, dark eyes meeting in the dim light. </p><p>“what are you thinking about?” he grunted lowly, and wonpil’s soul floated briefly within his ribcage, threatening to leave his body. here he lay, yoon dowoon, just within reach and tantalizingly close, and still he held back from any further contact. </p><p><em>you</em>, he wanted to say. <em>how your aura is like home to me, how the air you breathe makes the atmosphere I live in just the slightest bit more bearable, how I go through life everyday hanging onto the knowledge that you are but a hair’s breadth away from me; because I need you even closer</em>. </p><p>“you smell nice,” he said instead. he let his hands wander again, this time the tentative fingers trailing the line of a pulsing vein down his arm. the skin is smooth and cool to his touch; dowoon liked his showers freezing cold. the same fingers grazed skin all the way down to his palm, hitching lightly over the bandages; side-effects of his job. <em>the unfortunate hands of a professional drummer</em>, as dowoon liked to joke to him. </p><p>“your fingers are warm” dowoon whispered hoarsely, allowing his hand move forward before catching wonpil’s and intertwining them together. </p><p>and oh, how lonely wonpil’s fingers had been…</p><p>“your skin is cold” he whispered back, letting other words go unsaid and pulling tight on their shared grip; the breath that caught in dowoon’s throat didn’t go unnoticed by him. </p><p>“I’m always cold” dowoon laughs, and wonpil smiles fondly in agreement. </p><p>he <em>was</em> always cold to the touch, and yet, dowoon was warm, warmer than anything else. warmer than the afternoon sun on a chilly spring day, than freshly-pressed sheets during the colder nights, than coat jackets and furnaces and the sweet, welcome touch of human comfort. </p><p>he was warmer than that, and wonpil loved his heat. </p><p>he basked in dowoon’s gentle radiating warmth, such a simple contrast to the freshness of the air he exuded. </p><p>and here he lay, wonpil, a helpless fool waxing endless poetry about the man he lay in bed with.</p><p>“you gonna sleep anytime soon?” came the grunted question, and wonpil sidled in closer until their legs slid against each other and their lines blurred together. so that he lay there, and he lay here, until he couldn’t properly tell where wonpil ended and dowoon began. </p><p>“<em>mmhhhmm</em>” he hummed slowly, drawing in the slow warmth from the blush underneath the familiar pale skin. </p><p>“I like the smell of your soap” he whispered into the skin right above dowoon’s chest, hovering below where the last muscle of his neck ended. lips pursed; a light kiss pressed into the soft, taught surface.</p><p>“it’s baby soap” dowoon said, and wonpil had to smile at that; of course it was.</p><p>“I figured” he chuckled, the last words he remembered saying before he drifted out of consciousness. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. -you'll stay, right?// -of course i'll stay// -good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>bonus...?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>because why not hey-<br/>it ain't my fic if it don't got some parkian in it, lads. also, fair angst warning sheesh i have <em>no</em> idea what came over me ~~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>the door snapped open and shut, a little louder than jae would’ve liked; he’d told younghyun countless times to be gentle with the loose hinges, but the idiot never listened. 
regardless, it wasn’t like jae had any will to hold it against him.</p><p>not when younghyun was like this. </p><p>soft, silent and inquisitive, reaching for a common touch that neither minded and yet both craved. </p><p>for some strange reason, sleeping in the same bed remained a luxury that neither he nor younghyun allowed themselves regularly; in a way, he admired the brazenness of the younger pair for so openly indulging in something that he and younghyun only allowed themselves on rare occasions. </p><p>even if they loved each other’s company. </p><p>he didn’t know why things were so, but he’d learned to cherish them when the moments came.</p><p>like tonight, furrowed brow and worn out pajama pants, and jae had to take a moment to appreciate how younghyun genuinely looked good in everything;</p><p>-a blessing for his sore eyes, and a curse for his wretched heart. </p><p>the sheets lifted along with the thudding of jae’s heart; he didn’t know yet if it was one of those nights, and he’d hate to impose if it wasn’t- </p><p>and then it shifted. </p><p>“jae”- a simple whisper, a hand splayed onto his pillow. </p><p>“yeah” he responded, words delayed, blaming the slight choke in his voice on the fact that he’d been asleep. </p><p>wordless silence, the same broad frame shuffling under the light covers until his knee grazed a familiar thigh, his hand dragging against the same white tee shirt that had been meticulously picked out from among a pile of other, ramen-stained ones. </p><p>
  <em>same same-</em>
</p><p>the familiarity of kang younghyun. </p><p>he let his larger hand come to rest on the other’s splayed palm-down on the yellowed covers. he loved holding younghyun’s hands; he was assured that younghyun only went along with it because jae enjoyed it. </p><p>except today younghyun flipped his palm, long fingers weaving into longer ones, pads of the thumbs gently caressing calloused fingertips and sore knuckles- jae could physically feel his heart hitch in his chest. </p><p><em>what are you doing to me?</em> he wanted to ask. </p><p>“rough night?” he managed, throaty and breathless. </p><p>a moment of silence, a short inhale- “yeah, I guess?” </p><p>younghyun’s grip tightened, and jae pressed his fingers in harder out of force of habit. </p><p>younghyun moved in closer without another word, his nose bumping into skin at a point just vaguely above where jae’s heartbeat seemed to have faltered to a stop, and jae found his fingers coming up against his own will to thread into the dark hair that fell across his pillow. </p><p>their pillow. </p><p>when younghyun next spoke, it was after jae almost found himself drifting; almost. </p><p>“hey-” he called, almost as if it was an afterthought, and jae could distinctly feel his chest heave in terror. </p><p>jae <em>hmm</em>ed in response, hands pausing in dread. his fingers were still in younghyun’s hair, even after a good fifteen minutes had passed, <em>fuck</em>, maybe it was making him uncomfortable? he hadn’t pushed too far, right?-</p><p>“you’ll stay here right?” came the inquisition, knocking the air out of jae’s lungs. </p><p>a pause, the insecurity in his voice only fueling jae’s confusion. </p><p>what? </p><p>the slur in the beloved melodic voice of his, syrupy sweet just as he liked it; <em>oh</em>, younghyun was half-asleep, and jae knew him very well like this. </p><p>jae <em>loved</em> him like this. </p><p>drunk, he sounded; honest, he was. </p><p>“you- you’ll be here later, right?”- the slack grip tightened in his hand. </p><p>something unknown and terrifyingly powerful pulled taught behind jae’s sternum, a blinding heat building behind his nose. this was so foreign to him, the pleading in younghyun’s tone. </p><p>"you'll stay, right?" </p><p>he wanted him- wanted <em>jae</em>. </p><p>he wanted jae to <em>stay</em>. </p><p>a flash- and then midnight air was broken by a silent line of longing, tracing a path from the corner of jae’s eyelid to the crook of his smile. </p><p>silent it came, silent it disappeared, falling in solitude into the other side of his pillow. </p><p>“of course I’ll stay” he managed, voice hoarse and just above a whisper. </p><p>“good” came the relieved response, and jae just missed the slight desperation-wrought sparkle in younghyun’s eyes. </p><p>the moon bloomed fully in the sky that night; two opposite sides of the same pillow watered with love. </p>
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